Beauty and the Beast
by Caline Adaramis
Summary: Draco wanted a life full of adventure and romance, as far as possible from his small village. Little did he know that his life was about to take a sharp turn, as his mother got lost in the forest. AU - Belle!Draco/Beast!Harry - Lots of fluff later on.
1. Prologue - The Spoilt Prince

**Beauty and the Beast – Drarry AU**

**Disclaimer:** no infringement intended. Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me and I obviously get no profit from it (I wish...)

**Notes**: This is my first ever "published" fanfic, so please be nice :D AU; Beast!Harry; basically Drarry and Romione, focusing on the first.

**Warnings**: Slash and mild violence in the future.

**Summary**: Draco has always seemed different than most in his village; constantly dreaming of adventure. When his mother comes across a strange castle, with a beast for its master, after getting lost in the forest, his life takes an unexpected turn towards what he has never dreamed of. Or has he?

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><p><span>Prologue – The Spoilt Prince<span>

Once upon a time, in a distant kingdom, lived a handsome prince in a great and wondrous castle with plenty of servants and nobles to his court. The prince was an orphan, thus having the undivided attention and all at his beck and call, day and night. Although Prince Harry had all he wished and demanded – and most likely for that same reason – the boy was spoilt, arrogant and unkind, constantly complaining and dissatisfied.

Harry felt he had every right to be demanding and accepted only what he thought was best. Vain, the prince abhorred anything remotely bad-looking or poor and judged everything based on its exterior, never seeming concerned with the feelings that lay inside the puppets he so easily dismissed.

One night, however, when Harry was already thirteen years of age, a mighty storm shook the castle, keeping the prince from sleeping. The frames of his windows rattled and vibrated with the force of the wind and the sound of thunders. Unexpectedly, a loud slam sounded from the front doors – although they were far from the West Wing, where he resided – as if someone was making a great effort to make themselves be heard, knocking powerfully. Being up and in a foul mood, Harry descended from his chambers in order to end the disturbance.

On opening the door, he was faced with and ancient-looking man dressed in worn-out robes and drenched in water and mud from the rain. The old man was a beggar, and offered a single red rose in exchange of shelter from the bitter cold of the night. Disgusted with the man's haggard appearance, Harry scoffed at his offered gift and dismissed him with a cold flick of his wrist, saying, 'You do not belong here and are thus not welcome to stay. Be gone at once, for I do not want to see your face any longer.'

The beggar then looked at him with piercing blue eyes and argued in a low voice, bowing his head, 'Do not judge me for my vessel, your highness, for true beauty lies within. It is the heart you should see, rather than the mask before it. If you have a kind heart, do not deny shelter to a man who has seen the woes of this land.'

Sneering at the stranger, the prince lost his patience and shouted angrily, 'Do not _presume_ to give me advice! Here, you are no one and I will treat you as such! Leave this place and take your ridiculous flower with you.'

The prince's harsh words did nothing to faze the other, who replied in his ever calm voice, 'I can see now that you do not have love in your heart and cares nothing for the feelings of others. You may have beauty outside, but inside you are as ugly as a beast. Let the horror be shown and your true character revealed for the world to see.' A loud thunder sounded and bright lightning fell, blinding Harry momentarily.

On recovering his eyesight, he gasped in surprise, for before him there no longer stood a hunched beggar, but a tall warlock in rich purple robes and half-moon spectacles, his piercing blue eyes blazing with power and wisdom. His now clean white hair fell neatly around his old face and over his shoulders, his long silver beard tied in a silver clasp. The powerful wizard held out a silver hand-mirror encrusted with precious gems in front of Harry's face and his serene voice rebounded through the night, 'Behold your true form, O Beast. I condemn you to this appearance, harsh as your words, ugly as your heart, and all those around you shall pay for your deeds alike.'

Harry then looked at himself in the mirror, only to scream in terror and fall to his knees, for he was no more a handsome prince, but a fierce and horrid, vicious animal, with huge razor-sharp fangs and covered in thick black fur. His hands and feet had been replaced by strong, clawed paws and atop his disfigured head, unbelievably, were two curved, pointy dark horns, making him look like a creature escaped from hell. Even his deep emerald-green eyes no longer held beauty in them – although they were brighter than ever – but solely a killing power that frightened him.

'The rose I have brought you,' started the warlock once the prince had quieted, 'is enchanted and will bloom until your twenty-first birthday. If, until then, you find someone to love and the person loves you in return, despite your form, you will be human again and your life will return to normal.' There was a pause in which harry absorbed the man's words, 'should you fail to do so and the last petal falls without you knowing love, this,' the wizard pointed at the prince's face, 'shall be how you look like for the rest of your days.' The man then smiled gently, 'I truly wish you luck, Harry, for the ones I pity most are those who live without love.'

With this, the man turned and began climbing down the steps to the entrance gates of the castle, walking calmly through the rain, though it did not touch him at all, as if he was involved in an invisible shield. Before crossing the gates, however, the warlock turned and, although it should not be possible to hear the man's voice from that distance, Harry heard him say clearly, 'I have altered that mirror. It will not show your reflection, but whatever else you wish to see. Use it well.' Harry looked to his side and saw the silver hand-held mirror. Taking it, he turned it in his hand and read the words engraved on its back.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire._

Looking up, the prince noticed the wizard was gone.

Years passed and no one foreign dared approach the castle, in fear of the monster it was said to be its master. Soon the prince began to lose all hope of ever breaking the spell and closed in with himself, wallowing in grief and loneliness, _for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

His former life was soon forgotten and his reign abandoned, and through it all, the enchanted rose continued to bloom.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>*There you go! The prologue, I hope you like it, I tried to stay similar to the Disney movie, but anyways :3*<strong>


	2. Chapter 1 - Bonjour

**Disclaimer**: no infringement intended. Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me and I obviously get no profit from it (I wish...)

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><p><span>Chapter 1 – Bonjour<span>

Draco woke up to a loud bang that sounded suspiciously like an explosion. Opening his eyes wide, Draco sat up and looked around the room. Every single piece of furniture was in place in his rather large bedroom, evidence that whatever had happened, it had apparently not been potent enough to shake his walls. Rolling his eyes at the disturbance, he got out of bed and opened the deep blue curtains that covered his French doors, stepping onto the small balcony and gazing at the rising sun. After taking a few minutes to enjoy the warming sight, the young man started getting dressed, picking up the clothes he had left on a chair near his four-poster bed the night before. Draco washed his face quickly in the bath chamber, carefully combed his short hair and proceeded to descend the stairs and check on the noise.

Draco was almost twenty years old now and had striking features; his skin was of a pearly pallor and his hair, a platinum blond, cut neatly to reach just behind the ears. His eyes were a mixture of silver and blue flocks and had a depth to them that few understood and some feared. The young man was considerably tall and lean, walking with a natural grace few others possessed. He was strong-minded and stubborn, extremely aware of his rights and the possibilities the future held for him. Deep inside the blond knew something great was waiting around a corner for an opportunity to grab him and take him away, and he would not be stuck in this boring and lifeless place for long.

Upon arriving at the front hall of the small manor he inhabited, Draco saw a streak of thick green smoke coming from the basement. _Not again..._ Hurrying down there he flung open the door, coughing.

'Not _again_, mother, don't you ever learn?'

Through the dense green mist he could barely see the woman in case – the tears forming in his eyes were hardly helping – hunched over a cauldron and fanning around her madly with an old book.

'Draco, darling, wherever you are, help me out here, will you?'

'Of course.'

After dispelling the smoke, Draco helped his mother clean her workbench, the whole while muttering '_honestly_', '_I can't believe it_' and '_every single time_' grumpily under his breath. When they were finished, Draco turned to her.

'Why were you doing experiments even before dawn? One would think you'd want to conduct your crazy business in day light.'

Despite always calling her crazy or mad, the blond never really meant it. In all actuality, he thought his mother was a genius, even if distracted much too often for her own good.

'I couldn't sleep,' was the simple answer.

'You _couldn't sleep_? Why didn't you make a cup of tea, then? Read a book by candle light?' Draco exhaled a deep breath. Unbelievable. 'I swear one day you will burn the house down, mother.'

'Oh, nonsense, nonsense. This was a mere accident – harmless – you see,' she said, taking off her protection goggles, 'I forgot to add the belladonna before the asphodel and the state changed too soon, so-'

'Yes, I'm sure,' interrupted her son, 'just, please, refrain from doing it while I'm asleep.' Draco looked at his mother and smiled fondly. Her white-blond hair was in complete disarray and her cheek was smudged green, but her blue eyes never seemed brighter than when she was practicing "science", as she called it. A few years ago she would never have allowed even the slightest hair to fall out of place. Narcissa was a beautiful woman and needed little to no effort to look elegant. After his father Lucius had died, however, she had loosened up and stopped acting like a socialite to dedicate herself to her new passion, which she did at the most odd hours, and that more often than not resulted in weird concoctions or explosions.

'Are you hungry, dear? I myself could eat a horse.' Narcissa laughed at Draco's astounded expression and patted his shoulder lightly, 'Come, Draco, why don't you go make some tea and toast while I wash and change?'

They left the basement together, climbing up the steps to the hall hand in hand.

After breakfast with his mother, Draco decided to walk to the near village and give back the book he had borrowed to the librarian. The Malfoy Manor, how Draco's home was called, was built in an estate a couple of leagues away from a very little town that was his nearest source of civilization. Even so, Draco would - most of the time - rather stay at home among his numerous books, than have to meet the villagers, little people whom he considered narrow-minded and foolish, many of them illiterate of their own will, living every day like the one before. One can't have it all, it seems, he thought, while strolling towards the library, skilfully avoiding the hectic passersby and their loose animals, ignoring the whispers that always followed his back wherever he went.

The local people disliked Draco and his mother for being different and not following their provincial way of life. They did not believe that there could ever be anything beyond their little existence, more to see, more to live. Draco, for one, did not understand their obsession with marrying idiots as soon as possible for the sake of having children or snatching the prettiest bride before all others. He did not want that insignificant life. The blond wished to see and learn wonderful things, to experience great love and adventure and only settle down when he was certain all his wishes (or at least the most realistic ones) could be fulfilled.

Finally at the library's door, Draco peeked inside and, on seeing it devoid of its owner, entered and called out, 'Hello? Severus, it's me Draco, are you in?' He looked inside the door behind the counter that he knew led to a small office, but saw no one.

'_Yes_.'

Draco jumped when the man spoke slowly from behind him and promptly whirled round to glare at the one who had frightened him.

'Must you do this every single time? Honestly, you and mother should be friends.'

'Why should I refrain from... doing that which... amuses me so... greatly?' said Severus Snape, the owner of the single establishment Draco enjoyed visiting in the village. Snape was a tall and thin man, with dark, greasy, shoulder-length hair surrounding his face, which was dominated by a large and beaky nose. Severus had the habit of always dressing in black and speaking with long pauses within his sentences, a fact that Draco suspected was on purpose, in order to annoy the impatient and rather uncultured villagers. His black hawk-like eyes seemed to always analyze situations and judge cruelly in silence. With all sincerity, Draco thought him disagreeable most of the time, but had always respected and admired him greatly, if only for his knowledge of the world.

'Right. You're not even smiling. No matter, I've come to return this to you.' The blond gave the older man his book and proceeded to search for a new one. 'Have you got anything new?'

'Finished already? Well... this breaks your... record, I believe. What was it, twelve hours? And... no, nothing new, not since... yesterday.'

'Eight hours, actually. I couldn't put it down.' Admitted Draco. There were times, when it came to reading, in which he would lose himself in a book, neglecting food, sleep and all else. He had tons of books at the manor, of course, but he had already read those more than once and often longed for a fresh one. 'It was simply fascinating.' The young man was perched dreamily atop a ladder, staring at the distance and sporting a goofy grin.

'I see. I am glad. As soon as I have anything...new, I will... contact you.'

'Alright. Meanwhile, I'm taking this.' Draco pulled out a worn out red book from one of the shelves, showing it to the librarian. He climbed down the ladder while the other took it in hand and read the title.

'You...do realise this is the... third time you take this one?' asked Snape, as if he was trying to communicate with a stupid animal.

'Yes, it's my favourite: distant kingdoms, magical animals, daring swordfights, a prince...' Draco could not help the dreamy smile at the last part, but quickly dropped it and blushed when he saw the other smirking at his tiny slip.

'I see... Very well, then. If you... like it all that much, it is yours to keep.'

'Oh, no! I-I couldn't possibly- You're too kind, but-'on seeing Snape smiling, a rare sight in itself, he beamed back and accepted the gift. 'Thank you, I _really_ appreciate it.'

Draco started reading it as soon as he stepped outside the library, unconsciously avoiding collisions and obstacles without ever looking away from the pages that enchanted him so immensely. Until another's hand grabbed the object of his attention to hang it over his head, that is. The young man was forced to look up, then, and instantly grimaced at the sight of his least favourite person in the whole universe.

'Bonjour, Draco, my dear, aren't you happy to see me this very fine morning?'

'Bonjour, Riddle. Please give up touching what isn't yours and give me my book back.'

'Oh, so cold so early in the day,' Riddle said in mock-hurt, turning to the book and frowning, 'how can you read such a thing? There are no images!'

The blond rolled his eyes, 'Well, I wouldn't expect you to understand, Riddle, but some people use their imagination.' Draco jumped quickly and grabbed the book back, glaring at the taller man in front of him.

Tom Riddle was the town's most influent man and the biggest brute Draco had ever had de displeasure of being acquainted with. He had a very broad and strong build and arms the size of the blonde's thighs, which made him look like a gorilla when they were resting by his sides (a fact that Draco thought very disturbing). Riddle's hair was dark brown and held in a rough plaid at the back of his neck; he always walked about with a weapon of some sort – either a crossbow or a firearm – and was followed by his even more moronic squire, Wormtail, who was never quite able to keep up and could now be seen running towards them from the end of the street.

'I-I-I am so sorry, master; I got s-stuck in a bush,' panted Wormtail when he reached them.

Riddle's attention was then on his incompetent servant and Draco took it as his cue to finally escape them. All too soon, nevertheless, the brute caught up with him, strolling alongside the blond as though they had decided to take a walk together from the very start. Annoyed, the young man stopped and schooled his features into the most gracious smile he could wear in the presence of the other.

'What is it, Tom? This is hardly the path to your cottage.'

'Oh, nothing much, Draco, dear, it's just that we enjoy each other's company so much, I couldn't deny both of us the pleasure and decided to walk you home. This is a dangerous place, you know.'

How clueless and conceited could you get? Wondered Draco. 'Oh no, I couldn't possibly abuse your good will in this manner,' he tried, 'the walk is a very long and tiresome one.' He knew that it was no use, however, by the look on Riddle's face.

'Rubbish. You know it won't be a problem for me or these,' he said, pointing at his leg muscles, 'and you are worth the trouble.' The Blond sighed and conformed to putting up with the brute's presence.

It turned out worse than he had expected. The Riddle idiot could not stop talking about his many qualities and accomplishments, according to himself, anyway. He bragged about the animals he had killed, his latest victory in a brawl – by victory meaning mercilessly beating up that scrawny boy who worked at the bakery into a bloody pulp – and badmouthed every single person in the village who did not adulate him on a daily basis, all the way back to Draco's house.

The road to the Manor was long and wiry, surrounded by thick bushes and tall trees that let only a few beams of sunlight through, so that the atmosphere was one of peace and a sort of eerie magic. Draco enjoyed quite a lot his walks through these woods whenever he needed to get out of the Manor for some reason; he could let his mind wonder as he went, weak sunlight reaching him through leaves that were the colour of copper this time of year, his feet crunching the ones that had already fallen from their branches.

Of course, he had only himself or his mother for company on those occasions, which was not the case right at this moment.

'...or a stag. What do you think, Draco?'

The blond snapped his attention back to the brute, 'about what, Tom?' He went for a sweet smile, but it came out so fake he was sure it probably looked a lot more like a grimace.

'Should I hang the head of a boar or a stag on my hut's wall, you think? Asked Riddle, looking at Draco as though he actually cared what the other hung on his wall.

'Oh, I don't know, don't you already have enough stuffed animals as it is? Maybe you should leave the poor stags or boars or whatever else it is that you hunt be,' tried Draco.

'Draco, Draco, you are so sweet, but you don't _understand_,' said Riddle in a condescending tone that irked the blond to his very core, 'a true dominant male must have his conquests on display, you see, so that people will see who the real man is.' He finished with a smug grin and grabbed Draco by the waist, pulling him close and leering into his ear, 'for instance, if you were in search of a real man, you would know where to look.'

_Arrogant brute_. Draco pulled himself out of the other's grip, pushing at his chest and said, annoyed, 'Well, I'm not searching, Tom, so you might as well go hang your own head on the wall.'

They had arrived at the gates. The blond turned to the taller man and very stiffly bid him goodbye, opening and closing the gates – with him inside – before the other could utter another word, walking towards the house without looking back.

'One day you'll beg for me, Draco, and you know it!' Shouted Riddle as the blond ran further into the Manor grounds.

_Not even in your dreams, you bastard_, thought Draco while closing the front doors behind him as he entered the Manor.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>* There you go, chapter one! It's still a bit short, but I hope you like it; I had fun writing it :)<strong>

**I tried to stay close to the Disney movie, so Tom Riddle's personality - and almost all characters', in fact - is completely different, and there will be no Lord Voldemort in this :B ***


	3. Chapter 2 - The Castle

**Disclaimer**: no infringement intended. Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me and I obviously get no profit from it (I wish...)

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><p><strong>*OMG! I am so sorry it took me so long to update, but I got caught up with university and work and - to top it off - I had a mild block along the way...<strong>

**Anyway, here it goes, hope you like it :]***

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><p><span>Chapter 2 – The Castle<span>

Narcissa Malfoy was extremely observant. Although constantly distracted and aloof where she was concerned, when it came to other people she was something else. There was little in regard to the human nature that she could not easily identify – and judge, for that matter – in another person. No facade could deceive her; even the slightest twitch of a lower lip or a faint throb on a temple could not evade her notice and practically no face was safe from being read like an open book by her at a first meeting and sometimes even from a distance.

Accordingly, her own son would not be excused.

The woman could tell Draco was in a foul mood just by the way he closed the door behind him when entering the house, with forced manner, indicating that all he wanted was to bang the wood of its hinges and stomp angrily to his bedroom. Narcissa was passing the hall heading for her chambers by the time he got home, so she paused to watch. He had yet to face her, his hand still on the door knob, but the blond woman noticed that his shoulders were tense, his head hanging to his chest. Draco did not even have the time to turn before she said in a very low but firm voice, 'Draco, what's wrong?'

The man sighed in annoyance, most likely at her ability to read him so well, and whirled around, still looking at his feet. '_Everything_ is wrong around here, mother,' he sighed one more time and finally his gaze lifted, 'I just don't think I can take it anymore; I cannot fit in with all those ignoble people in that little town and most likely never will.'

Narcissa knew it was more than that, however; her son was constantly complaining how much of simpletons the townsfolk were and how he could hardly find a more civilized person to talk to, besides herself and Mr Snape, the librarian. No, she knew that there was only one person who could irritate the blond boy to such a state.

'It's Tom Riddle, isn't it?'

It was as if speaking the name out loud had unlocked the barely controlled stance the young man had put on; His face closed itself into a deep scowl and his fists tightened so that his knuckles were white; Draco let out a heavy huff, one that was familiar and that warned Narcissa of what was to come next, as he began his tirade.

'You can't understand how much I HATE that arrogant, rude bastard, mother! _The audacity_! Telling me I will beg for him! Can you BELIEVE it? And such a commoner with no manners whatsoever, thinking he's the best that's ever been born! Ha, not on my life! The conceited, disgusting brute following me around as if I was a dog in heat; no, thank you, not EVER!' He was pacing in front of her, going around in circles, gesturing and raising his hands into the air, with no apparent intention of ceasing too soon, 'Walking around with his stupid guns and that idiot he calls a servant, talking about the dead animals he kills, ha, thinking he could ever presume to impress me! ME! Draco Malfoy! I'd sooner die than sink to his level, mother, DIE! And when he comes at me again, OH, he'll see, he'll regret it, mother, I'm telling-'

'Enough, Draco,' said the woman firmly.

The boy froze at his mother's words, looking at the ground; a light flush crept its way from under his collar up to his cheeks and ears, him being clearly ashamed of his outburst.

'I can see your disgust for that man – a horrible brute, if I say so myself,' continued Narcissa now she had his attention again, 'but it will certainly do you no good to vex yourself thinking of him. We both know you shall never beg for him, or anyone, if you honour your name, so you would do much better in forgetting the man and spending time with your mother, don't you think?' She finished with a sweet smile, offering her arms to him.

Draco did not hesitate to take his mother's arms. He hugged her tightly around the shoulders, leaning his cheek on the side of her head and instantly relaxing, 'Most of the time I believe you are the only one that really understands me, mother. Only you.'

The declaration warmed her heart. 'Well, how would I not, dear, when you are so very much like me?' She said, her voice a little muffled by his shoulder, and let out a small laugh, closing her eyes.

They stayed like this for long minutes, until Narcissa disentangled herself from her son's embrace and pushed him gently away saying in a playful tone, 'Now, my legs are hurting from standing up all this time. I am not as young as I used to be, you know.'

'Nonsense. You are as young as you'll ever be; people could easily mistake you for my sister,' Draco stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers fondly, 'and you're still as beautiful.'

'Your sister! With a grown son like you? Why, you flatter me Draco,' said Narcissa, with a smirk, 'although, all modesty aside, I must admit that I am indeed still a stunning lady.' She laughed as Draco exclaimed, 'mother!' and joined her with his own laughter, all the previous irritation forgotten.

'Why don't we go up to the library so you can show me you knew purchase, maybe read me some pages?' asked the blond woman, indicating with her chin the book Draco still held firmly in his left hand, the one he had not let go of since he had managed to get it back from Tom Riddle's rough hands. The boy, who had seemed to have forgotten that he was holding it, keeping it safe almost unconsciously, lifted it for his mother to read the title, at the same time saying it aloud.

'Sleeping Beauty. It's one of my favourites; Mr Snape gave it to me as a gift once I told him how much I like it. Haven't I already read it to you?' He asked. It was one of their pastimes, Draco reading the stories he borrowed from the librarian to his mother while both of them drank tea in the Manor's private library (that of course when he didn't go through the book in a sitting, on his own, and completely forgot about anything else).

'I don't think so, no,' she answered, 'Let us do it now, shall we?' Narcissa then proceeded to call Millie, one of the only servants they had left to help them take care of the mansion, asking her to make them tea and take it upstairs; the woman then took her son's arm and strolled out of the hall.

A week later saw Narcissa ready to leave the house at noon. There was going to be a Science Convention on the next day in a neighbouring town a few hours away on horseback, so she wanted to arrive just before dusk, spend the night at an inn and attend the Convention in the morrow. The woman had been working on her new healing potions for a good five months, and was confident that her discoveries on unusual uses for rather common herbs would allow her name to draw more attention in the field and hopefully increase her income in the potions-selling business.

All her important belongings for the trip were already in the side-bags strapped to Philippe, their horse, who was saddled, fed and apparently eager to go.

'Stop pulling, Philippe, this will get you nowhere. Foolish horse, if you don't stop, I'll have to borrow someone else's horse an leave you behind, grounded,' chided Narcissa, knowing that somehow the animal understood everything she said, or at least what she meant to do to him. As soon as he heard the word 'grounded', the horse stopped trying to rid the woman of her control on the reigns and stood completely still, as though waiting for her reaction. 'Now, very good, that's my horse,' she cooed and turned to her son, who was observing them from a distance (he knew never to approach Philippe when his mother was near the horse; although very fond of Draco to some extent, the animal was extremely jealous of Narcissa), 'I hope you will be alright on your own for a while, dear, I must really be on my way.'

'Nothing to worry about, mother, Millie will keep me company. I'll be fine; it is only two days and I'm no child anymore,' said the blond man.

'Alright, then, let's go, Philippe,' she mounted the horse, whipped the reigns once and the horse set off on his way, out of the manor grounds and into the road. She turned her head and saw Draco waving in the distance; she smiled fondly and waved back quickly, turning her attention back to the path. 'Full speed ahead, my dear, I do not wish to arrive in the dark,' Narcissa kicked his hide twice lightly and nodded satisfied to herself when the horse moved faster.

They had travelled for many hours and soon Narcissa came to the realisation that she had absolutely no idea where they were. Yes, for the first time in her life, Narcissa Malfoy was utterly lost in the middle of some very eerie woods, alone with her horse and with the sun setting; _well, my luck is simply splendid, is it not?_

The road – if you could even call it that – was becoming narrower, the vegetation thicker with each step, and she noticed that Philippe was hesitant, probably scared of the animals that surely lurked behind the darkened trees that surrounded them.

'We should have been there by now; perhaps we lost a turn... This can't be right, where have you taken us, Philippe?' said Narcissa absent-mindedly, paying attention to the sounds she could now hear coming from the woods. 'We should probably head back, what do you think?' Before she could do or say anything else, however, a bone-chilling howlpierced the air, followed by weaker ones. The blond woman stood paralysed, knowing full well what a dangerous position she had herself in at the moment.

Wolves. _Well, that is just perfect._

A crow cried all of a sudden from somewhere above them and Philippe jolted, clearly terrified, let out a panicked neigh and turned around of his own accord, galloping in the direction they had come from with no warning. Had Narcissa not been an excellent horse-woman, she would most likely have fallen from the saddle, so brisk Philippe's reaction had been. As it was, she gripped the reigns more firmly and pressed her body to the horse's neck while trying to regain control of his movements.

'Stop, Philippe! Calm down!' she shouted over and over, but to no avail. The animal started getting off-course in his desperation at the wolf cries that could still be heard all around them, leaving the road and shooting through the small spaces he could find in-between the large trees.

Narcissa began to feel afraid as to what might happen to her; Philippe had never been this scared, to the point where he no longer obeyed her. She knew that the horse could sense something amiss that she was not able to, being only human. Even so, she could not risk trying to jump off him, as the fall might injure her gravely at this speed.

Another howl was heard, closer this time. Philippe halted suddenly and almost threw the woman off as he reared on his back hooves in fright, a feeling that was shared by the blonde as she glimpsed what her pet had seen.

Wolves, at least half a dozen, stood in front of them, baring their sharp fangs and snarling menacingly. By the matching growls that she could hear behind her, another five or so were positioned out of sight.

They were surrounded.

_Oh my, what now?_

Philippe had apparently decided on that and started kicking and turning in an attempt to run from the threat. The animals were caught unprepared for that reaction so that it took them a while to chase him. _Well, aren't these dogs a bit stupid?_ Considering that Philippe was already tired from their journey, had to carry her weight and was galloping amok through a forest he was certainly not familiarised with, he was easy prey and soon the pack caught up to them.

_Perhaps not so stupid, then._

The single positive aspect of it all was that she could now see the road again. The second they stepped onto it, however, two things happened at once; the strap that held the saddle on the horse broke and a wolf jumped and bit Philippe's hide. The horse kicked and Narcissa was thrown up over his side, one of her feet twisted in the footboard and taking the saddle with it in her fall. The woman landed badly on her hip, wincing in pain; the kicked wolf was left behind, whimpering on the cold ground. _Serves you right._

Narcissa was lost, in every meaning of the word; her horse had run away, chased by angry wolves, leaving her injured in the middle of nowhere and with simply no idea of what to do, for the first time in her life. _Well, isn't this a night of firsts?_

Night. _That's right, I should be moving_. With humungous effort she got to her feet, shaking off the broken saddle, still trembling with the shock of it all and scared for what might happen to Philippe.

She did not have much time to recover, as a set of snarls indicated that not all the beasts had gone after her poor horse. She snapped her head up and saw two of the animals facing her, their hurt companion lying forgotten a few feet to their right. Narcissa had no doubts at what to do now. She could see the tower of a castle looming in the middle of the woods behind the stupid dogs and immediately knew where to go. Despite her aching hip she grabbed the broken saddle from the ground and threw it at them, distracting them for a few moments, enough to allow her escape. She ran like she had never run in her entire life, the panic of her situation providing the strength she needed. Alas, another first, she thought madly as her legs burnt like hell and she saw the wrought-iron gates getting closer and closer, still with her ears tuned to the wolves that were coming nearer.

_Oh, thank God and the heavens, for all that is sacred, thank goodness!_

She had finally come up to the gates, successfully wrenching them open, getting inside and shutting it on the animals' faces. She stepped away as the wolves shook it in their struggle to reach her. Her legs then gave away and she fell once more, exhausted and breathing raggedly, observing as the animals desisted from their prey and ran back into the forest beyond. The woman could not believe her luck; had she been a few seconds slower she would now be dog ancestor's food.

When she managed to stabilise her breathing again, Narcissa stood up and looked around. The castle in front of her was indeed impressive, even if very glum. If anything she was surprised to find such a mighty construction in the middle of practically nowhere and so hidden from the outer world; she had heard rumours from the servants, of course, of a magnificent castle that had been cursed and was now haunted by a monster, but had never thought she would ever come across anything of the sort. Right at this moment, however, it certainly looked like she had.

From what she could see at her position by the gates, the grounds seemed to be at least thrice as large as the Manor's, the building itself twice or more as tall, with several towers reaching for the skies, connected by stone bridges, and evil-looking gargoyles stood at every balustrade and on the roof. All sorts of weeds had crept from the abandoned garden into the pavement that linked the entrance to the stairs that surely led into the castle; vines and lime covered most of the brick walls and even some of the windows. Ignoring the gruesome look of the place, but mostly because she had no other option, Narcissa made her way along the pavement, limping crossed the courtyard and climbed the steps, stopping on the landing before the huge wooden doors.

Bracing herself, the blonde grabbed the knocker – the scowling face of a horned demon, a heavy metal hoop hanging from its fangs (_people have absolutely no taste these days_...) – and banged three times on the massive doors, waiting.

After several minutes, the portal seemed to open on its own, for no servant came to greet her and no one stood behind it as she stepped over the threshold. The front hall was enormous and completely dark, save from the moonlight that flitted through whatever space it could find on the windows.

'Hello?' she called. 'Is there anyone here?'

No answer came, so she advanced a little more and promptly jumped and looked back as the front doors suddenly closed again with no human aid. Haunted castle, indeed, she mused silently. Walking further into the hall, Narcissa opened a door she assumed would lead her into a drawing room or possibly another hall or corridor, calling out again, 'Hello? Is there anyone here? I am incredibly sorry for intruding like this, but I lost my way in the woods. Excuse me? Hello?'

Still no answer, but her socialite notions proved correct. She had entered some sort of parlour, sparsely decorated with noble furnishing, dark wood panelling its walls and what looked like a very valuable chandelier hanging from the ceiling, full of cobwebs and dust. A Persian rug lay on the floor, covering most of the room and a huge mirror with golden frames was hanging over the mantelpiece, its surface so dirty no reflection could be seen.

No fire blazed in the hearth, despite the cold, and the place looked altogether uninhabited, apart from the high-back armchairwhich dominated the room and was the only clean piece of furniture she had seen so far. Someone sits here, probably the master of the castle, she thought.

'Psst!'

Narcissa whirled around at the sound, certain that someone was calling her and winced at the sting she felt on her hip with the brisk movement.

'Who's there?' she asked. 'Hello? Is anyone home?' she stuck her head out of the door back into the hall. 'Hello? Excuse me, can someone please help me?'

'Psst!' again the whisper from no one.

Entering the parlour once more, something caught her attention. At the far back, on a small table in the corner, there was a three-armed girandole. Nothing strange there; what surprised her was that its candles were lit, something she had absolutely no doubt they had not been before she came back into the room.

'What on earth,' she murmured; picking the candelabrum up and raising it to better inspect the place.

'Psst!'

_Oh, for heaven's sake!_ 'Who said that? Hello?' Narcissa was losing her patience, something she rarely did, convinced that somebody was having fun at her expense.

'Over here,' said a voice over her head.

'Where? Hello?'

'Hullo,' the speaker seemed to be close to her, and a man at that, but there was simply no person there. A ghost?

'Ha, don't be stupid, Narcissa, there is no such thing as ghosts,' she said to herself.

'I'm not a ghost, ma'am, look at your hand,' he said again. She looked at the hand not holding the candelabrum.

'The other hand...'

_What..?_ She looked at the girandole and stared. It could not be possible. Narcissa was sure she had in fact hit her head as she fell from the horse and was now having hallucinations, for there, on the central candlestick there were a small set of blue eyes, a long nose, thin lips and _no way... freckles!_

'Hullo there, ma'am,' the tiny mouth moved to form the words and then smiled.

'OH, MY GOD!' she shouted in shock, dropping the candelabrum on the floor.

The source of her surprise got to his "feet" – or base if you will – and used one of his arms to rub the back of his "head", apparently cringing from the bump. 'Why do they always drop me?' he whined.

'At least she didn't run away screaming,' said another voice, a woman this time, from somewhere the blonde could not yet locate.

'Yeah, well, I still hit my head didn't I?'

'Stop whining, Ronald.'

Coming down from the shock, Narcissa realised she had still not had her answers, and that simply would not do. 'Excuse me, who are you? And exactly what is going on with this godforsaken place?' she demanded.

'Oh, sorry, ma'am,' he started, miraculously hopping onto the small table again. _Incredible_. 'I'm Ron, the personal assistant to the master of this castle, at your disposal,' he bowed clumsily low, almost setting fire to the wood on which he stood.

'Watch the furniture, Ronald!' said the feminine voice again.

'Oh, yeah, and that is Hermione,' he said, pointing with his left candlestick-come-arm in the direction of the mantel piece, where what looked like a table-clock was moving over to the edge; it jumped and came to stand in front of the woman, looking up – or at least as much a clock could look up – at her.

'Good evening, madam, I am truly sorry for your condition, but I am afraid you are not allowed to stay,' said the clock-girl. 'You see, our master is very strict and would certainly not appreciate if we gave shelter to a stranger without consulting him, and right now he is in his room, resting, so we cannot wake him, therefore I most sincerely hope you will understand and-'

'God, 'Mione, give it a rest!' interrupted Ronald the candlestick. 'What harm will it do if we let her stay? The woman has clearly gone through hell; we can't deny her a place to stay! Have a heart!'

'You know perfectly well what harm it could do, Ron! Master Harry will be furious!'

'Hermione, come on! It's just for the night, right?' he turned to Narcissa, wanting a confirmation, which she readily gave.

'Of course, I do not wish to impose on you or your master in absolutely any way. I would not have entered the castle if it weren't so dangerous out there at this time at night,' she said, nodding reassuringly to Hermione.

'I am sorry, but we can't-'

'Don't worry ma'am, just ignore her,' interrupted Ron, 'why don't you sit down and warm yourself by the fire while I arrange for your stay.' He indicated to large armchair facing the fireplace and hopped down the table onto the floor. Narcissa was moving to sit when the clock stepped in front of her.

'No, no, no, no, no,' she said, 'not the Master's chair, he won't like it!'

'Blimey, Hermione!' said Ron, exasperated, 'Harry is sleeping, let the woman have her rest, will you!' and turning to the blonde, 'Here, ma'am, sit down,' he pushed Hermione out of the way, who huffed in indignation and turned to leave.

'Have it your way, but don't come to me when Master Harry finds out!'

'Yeah, right,' he muttered and then shouted at the door, 'Oi, everyone! We have a guest!'

Narcissa had barely sat when there was a rush of movement. The fire suddenly roared in the fireplace and a fluffy bench ran in her direction and under her feet, as if it were a trained dog; what she had been certain was a hatstand walked over to her holding a blanket, which it readily stretched over her lap, tucking it under her thighs.

'Oh my, thank you, what a service!' she giggled.

A teacart wheeled itself next to her and steaming black tea was poured by a hopping teapot into an equally hopping cup.

'How would you like a spot of tea, ma'am, it will help you warm up in no time,' it said.

The pot then asked very politely if she would like sugar or milk, to which she answered 'no, thank you' with wide eyes and laughed at the absurdity of the situation. This ought to be a dream.

She had time only to take the first sip of her tea when the door to the parlour banged open and the fire extinguished, turning everything dark. A fearsome growl could be heard coming from the doorway, so Narcissa put the tea back on the cart and slowly stood up, pivoting to face whatever it was.

The woman could not see much in the darkness the room had become, but she could tell there was someone standing by the door, the sheer size of this person menacing. Her movement, however seemed to set the other into motion and suddenly she had one of her arms in a firm grip, keeping her in place. She shifted her gaze up at the intruder's face and received a snarl in return; at this sound, the fire blazed again and Narcissa was finally able to properly look at the other.

What she saw there made her gasp and pale in terror. For the one holding her had the features of a monster; it was covered in black fur and had horns protruding from the top of his head. The hand that gripped her arm was nothing but a huge paw.

'Who are you? What are you doing here?' growled the Beast.

'I- I lost myself in the forest a-and I-'

'SO YOU JUST DECIDED TO INVADE MY PROPERTY? THOUGHT YOU'D TAKE A LOOK AT THE BEAST?' it yelled at her face, forcing her to cower back.

Oh, so this is the master of the castle. 'N-no, of course not, I'm sorry, but-'

'YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE!'

'Master, allow me to explain,' started Ron from somewhere behind her, 'the lady was lost in the woods and needed shelter, so I reckoned you wouldn't mind if we showed her a little bit of hospitality.'

Never letting go of Narcissa, the Beast directed his speech at the candlestick.

'I thought you had learned not to do things behind my back again, Ron,' it snarled.

'Master, I would like to take this moment to say that I was against this from the start, it was all Ron's fault,' said Hermione, who apparently had come back into the room after her master, 'I tried to put some sense into his head, but would he listen to me, no, of course-'

'Quiet, Hermione,' he ordered, and turning to Narcissa, who simply could not take her eyes off him, 'WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT!'

'Nothing. I am truly sorry, sir, I meant no harm, I just needed a place to stay for the night,' she answered weakly.

'I will give you a place to stay,' he said, walking out of the room and dragging the woman with him. 'You are my prisoner for trespassing.'

At the realisation of what was about to happen to her, Narcissa struggled against the other's grip, all the while protesting, 'No, please sir, I meant no harm. I beg you, let me go...'

'Master Harry, is this really necessary?' tried Ron, following them with his hopping.

'YES!' yelled the Beast at his servant.

'Master, although I am against her being here, I believe treating her as a prisoner is rather harsh of your part. The lady is innocent.'

The Beast ignored all pleads and continued to drag Narcissa relentlessly until they reached the dungeons of the castle. He threw her inside a room that looked more like a cell and closed the heavy door behind her, bolting it from the outside. From the small hole on the door they used to pass food she could hear him giving orders.

'You are to bring her food twice a day and make sure she isn't hurt. Under no circumstances is she to be released unless I tell you so, I am understood?'

'Yes, sir,' the other two answered in unison and she heard his footsteps receding and the servants following.

Narcissa moved to sit on the bed at the wall and looked about her. The cell was small and damp, with rough stone walls and a very small barred window near the ceiling; the floor was covered with straw, and quite dirty, but the bed was decent, clean and reasonably soft. It could be far worse. I could be dead and Draco wouldn't even know.

Draco. In her distress she had not even thought about her son. Feeling slightly guilty, Narcissa wondered what Draco would do if he knew what fate had befallen her. She sighed tiredly, coughed and lied down, covering herself with a blanket and deciding to think about it the next day; it was late and Draco would not miss her until then anyway.

Falling asleep on her side, Narcissa dreamt of talking candlesticks, black-haired, horned wolves and runaway horses.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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><p><strong>*There you have it, this one was a bit longer. :]*<strong>


	4. Chapter 3 - Prisoner

**Disclaimer**: no infringement intended. Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me and I obviously get no profit from it (I wish...)

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><p><strong>*Now comes the moment where I grovel at your feet and apologise for taking, like, nine months to update this fic. I am truly sorry!<strong>

**Here's my explanation, if you care to hear it: I had written this chapter about three weeks after the last one was posted, after a long and suffering author's block. However! The universe conspired against me and destroyed my old computer, alond with my hard drive and everything that was in it. Luckily I had stored the other chapters in a portable hard drive, but the new one? Nope, not a single trace. (the worst was that I had also got rid of my manuscripts and would have to write it all over from scratch). I was in such a state of extreme rage that I simply refused to do it for many months, until I realised, as a fanfiction reader, that I was going to disappoint some people, so I glued myself to the chair this weekend and did it.**

**Here's the result. I really hope you like it :D***

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><p><span>Chapter 3 – Prisoner<span>

Draco was reading peacefully in the morning parlour – devouring his new acquisition from the Librarian – and sipping his cup of tea when Millie, their serving girl, suddenly burst into the room, looking exasperated and out of breath. He put his book aside with some effort, marking the page, and stood up to walk to the girl by the door.

'What is it, Millie,' he started annoyed, but concerned all the same for the probable meaning of her state, 'I was reading and you know better than to interrupt me.'

'A- a visitor- in the drawing room- forced his way in- I- I couldn't help it- but- I'm sorry, master Draco, so-sorry-'

'Breathe, woman, for goodness' sake!' he said. 'I can't understand what you mean; who is in the drawing room?'

'That- that brute from the village,' she said wide-eyed, 'Tom Riddle.'

Draco's stomach sank at those words. Of all that could happen, the man had managed to follow him inside his own house? The day could not get any worse.

'What do you mean Tom Riddle is in my house! Why did you let him in, are you insane? You bloody well know I hate him!' he said.

He had raised his voice to an almost shout that had Millie cowering slightly and sputtering a chain of apologies, which she finished with, 'He- he forced his way in when I opened the door to see who it was, I couldn't help it!'

Draco looked back at his discarded book on the seat of his favourite armchair with a pout. The book truly was exceptionally good and the boy loathed abandoning it, to go throw Tom Riddle out of the Manor, no less. Sighing, the blond stood taller and braced himself, leaving the parlour and strolling purposefully towards the drawing room.

Upon arriving at the door of the room in case, Draco stopped and stared dumbfounded at the horrific sight that met his eyes through the open door. The blighter Riddle was laying on one of the couches, with his bare feet propped up on one of its arms as if this were his home and he were used to doing so every day of his life; muddy boots rested near him on the beige carpet, which Draco noticed mortified had several brownish footprints. Feeling offended and furious, Draco stomped in and over to the bastard that had dared invade his home and make himself comfortable without anyone's consent but his own. The brute looked up when Draco reached him and grinned wolfishly at the blond.

'Draco, dear, there you are. I was beginning to think that bint had lost herself trying to find you,' the man said.

_And even having the audacity of insulting my servants! The nerve of him!_

'Tom, what a _lovely_ surprise,' began Draco, with sarcasm which he remembered belatedly the other would not be able to catch. 'What are you doing here, exactly? I don't remember inviting you over.'

'Lovely surprise, you say,' he started, 'well, isn't it, though, Draco?' He stood up suddenly and moved to the mantelpiece in a few strides. Looking at his own reflexion on the golden-framed mirror above the fireplace, he grinned broadly at himself and stroked his teeth with the tip of his tongue, as though polishing them, giving especial attention to his left canine. Draco observed the scene with utter disgust, but waited patiently for the brute to finish admiring himself, meanwhile crossing his arms over his chest.

Finally closing his mouth, however still not turning around, Tom Riddle looked at Draco through the mirror.

'There's not a young man or woman who would not kill to be in your place today, you know, Draco?' he boasted arrogantly.

'Oh, is that so?' asked the blond, whirling around and walking swift out of the room, in the direction of the entrance hall, the other man following him still talking.

'Why yes! This is the day your dreams come true,' he said smugly.

_What? Is he out of his mind?_

'And what exactly would you know about my dreams?' Draco was quickly becoming more and more angry; in fact, if this did not stop soon, he would most likely reach the highest level of rage that he had ever felt his whole life.

'Plenty, of course,' Riddle said. 'I am sure you can picture it: a rustic lodge by the woods, my latest kill roasting on the fire; my better half taking care of me, massaging my feet; the little ones playing on the floor with the dogs – we'll have seven.'

'Dogs?'

Riddle laughed. 'No, Draco – _boys_! Strapping, like me!'

They had reached the hall and the boy turned to looked at his unwanted guest.

'Wow, imagine that,' said the blond rolling his eyes. 'And who will this lucky person be, Tom?' he inquired carefully, anticipating the answer with something akin to nausea.

'Isn't it obvious?' he stared at Draco expectantly, but upon receiving no response smiled slyly and lowered his voice, 'Why, _you_, of course!'

'_Me_?' he feigned surprise to cover his absolute outrage at the obvious insinuation of his prompt acceptance – which could not be further from the truth. How dare he! 'Tom, I... I have no words! Really, I don't know what to say...'

He started moving back as the other came nearer. He had begun to feel a bit overwhelmed, oppressed by the man's presence and was looking for a way to get rid of him. The brute, however, was not deterred by Draco's clear annoyance and stepped forward for every step back that the blond man took. Soon Draco was cornered, his back pressed to the front door and the taller man looming over him, his face inching closer and closer.

'Say yes, Draco. Why would you deny yourself imminent happiness by my side?'

'I am terribly sorry, Tom,' he started, his hand crawling over the wood to grab the handle, which he turned suddenly, wrenching the door open swinging outside with it, 'but I do not deserve you!'

Not expecting the abrupt movement and being in the process of leering at Draco, Tom Riddle lost his balance and fell face first on the ground, still barefoot and with his arse sticking up in the air.

Draco suppressed a snort at the other's predicament and said very clearly, 'Please, do not come back here again. I shall never – and I repeat, never – accept you, Tom, no matter what you do. Stay away from me.' He promptly shut the door and ran back inside, up the stairs into the drawing room. He picked the blighter's muddy boots and carried them to the window; opening it he threw them out, knowing the objects would land close to where their owner had fallen.

_Serves you right, bastard._

Turning around he saw Millie standing by the door and could not hold it any longer, bursting with laughter, in a strange mixture of rage, amusement and indignation. By the look on Millie's face, he probably looked like a madman, but Draco could not care less. Throwing the brute Riddle out of the door and onto the ground had been one of the most satisfying things he had ever done in his life and the blond man did not regret it one tiny bit.

Having finally stopped laughing, Draco let out one last chuckle and sat down on the chaise near the wall, shaking his head, still incredulous with what had just happened.

'Marry _Tom_! Can you imagine?' he said to the room, 'That boorish, brainless, rude ruffian! What did he expect, that I would become some sort of little housewife he could explore? Can't you just see it? _No_, thank you, I guarantee this will _not ever_ happen! I'd much rather gouge my own eyes out or be eaten alive by _rats_ than spend the rest of my life within touching distance of that man. I want much more than what he could ever presume to offer _me_.'

_Marry Tom!_

Draco was starting to recover from the whole set of events and decided to go back to the book waiting for him in the parlour. Nevertheless, he did not have the chance to take a single step towards the door when he heard a commotion from outside, voices shouting and what sounded suspiciously like Philippe. _What on earth..._

He walked to the window once again and stopped short with a foreboding feeling creeping up his spine.

It truly was Philippe, desperately prancing and kicking left and right while the gamekeeper tried in vain to hold him down. Panic hit Draco hard as he noticed that Narcissa was nowhere in sight. He ran out of the room and thundered down the stairs, threw open the front door and ran in the horse's direction, shouting, 'Philippe!' The animal stood still while Draco approached.

He looked at Goyle, but the man only shrugged and mumbled that the horse had come barrelling through the gates without his mother.

'Philippe! What are you doing here? Where's mother? What happened?' the horse began shaking his large head impatiently, pulling at the reins, as if trying to express something urgent and annoyed that the humans could not understand him. Draco noticed the saddle was missing and Philippe had several scratches along his rear and neck, some still oozing blood. Draco took the reins from the gamekeeper's hands and put a calming hand on Philippe's face, managing to draw the horse's full attention.

'Philippe,' Draco said slowly and in a low voice, 'were you attacked? Where's mother?'

The horse neighed and threw its head back.

'Alright. Here's what we're going to do, you _bloody_ chicken: I am going to tend to your wounds very quickly and then you are taking me where you lost my mother.' He patted the animal's forehead and smiled gently. Philippe was quiet and let himself be taken to the stables, where he drank some water while his wounds were cleaned by Draco, who was a bit wary as to his reaction but was pleasantly surprised when the horse did not even flinch at the multiple stings he must have felt.

Less than twenty minutes later they were ready to go, Draco mounted on a new saddle, wrapped in a travelling cloak and giving orders to the few servants that stood next to the horse.

'Should Philippe return alone, it means I sent him back because it was dangerous, so do not come after me. You will tend to him and the house as usual and wait for us to come back. Is it clear?'

'Yes, master,' they said in unison, all tense looking and serious.

'Don't worry, I'll bring her back safely,' he promised, more to assure himself than the three servants. 'Off we go, then.' He lightly kicked Philippe's rear once and rode out of the gates.

They had been travelling for a couple of hours when Philippe took a sharp turn, going off the road and into the woods surrounding it. Draco did not question the action and silently let the horse guide him. Albeit too easily frightened and stubborn, the animal certainly was more intelligent than any other of his kind and extremely loyal to Narcissa. Although it was still early afternoon, the sunlight barely reached the ground, so thick were the brownish treetops above them, giving it an eerie atmosphere that sent a small chill up the blond man's spine, the fine hairs on his neck rising.

The man was starting to get antsy when he noticed some sort of building far beyond, but could not make out exactly what it was. Draco urged the horse to go faster and soon realised what stood before him, opening his eyes wide and gaping disbelievingly at the sight. _And what a sight._

'No way in _hell_,' he murmured.

There, in the middle of the darkened forest, was a gloomy and decrepit castle, just as he had imagined from the tales he was told as a boy. The walls around it were decayed, darkened and covered in vines, horrid gargoyles on the rooftops. As they reluctantly approached the wrought-iron gates a crow poised itself atop one of the folds and cried at them as though inquiring their purpose. Draco got off the saddle and walked slowly towards where the bird stood.

'Is my mother here, you think?' he wondered aloud, turning to look over his shoulder at Philippe. The animal snorted and stomped his front hoof twice in agitation.

'Alright, I get it – you don't like it here – but I need to know if she's here, I am going in. You stay here and wait for me.'

He made to grab a bar of the gates and almost jumped out of his skin as the crow – whose existence he had momentarily forgotten – cawed loudly and flew away. 'Damned bird.'

Opening the gates, the boy took a deep breath and strolled forward, determined to find his mother as he climbed up the stairs and knocked twice on the great oak portal. _Honestly, a horned beast as a knocker? People simply have got no taste these days..._

For some reason still unknown to him, Draco was not surprised when the door opened on its own and strode into the dark threshold, looking about him warily. The place was clearly abandoned, if the amount of dust and moth holes all around had anything to say about it.

'Hello?' he called out. 'Is there anybody home?'

No answer. Draco kept walking in, exploring door after door in the entrance hall until he found a dimly lit corridor, strolling along it and calling out the whole while. At some point he climbed down two sets of stairs, certain that they were leading him to the dungeons. His mind was racing with the possibilities, imagining, hoping, fearing what he might find; whether would find Narcissa and if she would be alright; who the master of this castle was or if they even existed; what he would do once he found his mother, what sort of obstacles there would be. Draco knew deep inside that it would not be that simple rescuing the woman and he needed to be prepared to face whatever came his way.

At last he encountered a heavy wooden gate with a small barred window, through which he could only just see another narrow corridor and feel the damp chill that soaked the rough stone walls, thinking this would be the perfect context to become ill.

He hesitated with a hand on the bolt and then he heard it.

A woman was talking, her voice muffled, probably a hundred feet away and he was certain one of the words was his name. Bursting into action, Draco opened the door and ran following the voice. He passed several doors until he found what he thought was his mother's cell.

'Mother!' he shouted, banging on the door. 'Mother!'

'Draco!' he heard her call back from behind the door. There was the sound of steps and the voice became louder, 'Draco, is it you?' she asked. 'God, I cannot believe it! You actually found me – I must say I am _incredibly_ proud of your skills – how did you do it?'

'Never mind how I did it, mother, I need to get you out of here as quickly as possible.'

He had no idea how to do that, now that he came to think of it, for the door was locked and there was no sign of keys anywhere near. It was obvious also very heavy, meaning he could not hope to break into the cell by kicking it down.

'I don't know how to open it, mother!'

'Draco, listen to me,' she scolded firmly, 'it is too dangerous. Get yourself out of here while you still can, darling, save yourself, I will be fine!'

'Horseshit!' he could picture his mother scowling at his language. 'You are locked up in a damp cell, in the middle of nowhere! How can you be fine? Don't make me laugh.' While ranting he was frantically trying to find something, anything to break the lock, the hinges, whatever set his mother free.

'No, Draco, please go! There is a creature, a beast, he will kill you, please-'

'A beast? Is that who did this to you? What do you mean, a beast?'

'Draco you must leave at once!'

'No! I refuse to leave you here.'

'Draco-'

Narcissa's next plea was interrupted by a deafening roar coming from the entrance of the corridor. Terrified, Draco turned around and shouted, startled, for he was suddenly face to face with a beast, finally understanding what his mother had meant.

The massive creature was covered in thick jet black fur, had sharp horns atop his head, huge fangs hanging out of his mouth and was towering over Draco, staring into the boy's spooked eyes intently with his own deep emerald ones. The boy cowered and his back met the hard wood of his mother's cell. That was when he remembered what he had come here to do. Assembling all the courage he had, he managed to speak up.

'Please,' he whispered. 'My mother-'

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?' the beast yelled at Draco's face, making the blond let out a small whimper.

'Please,' he tried again, 'I mean no harm. My mother is here, please let her go.'

'She was trespassing on MY PROPERTY! SHE HAD NO RIGHT! And neither do you!'

'Don't you see she's fragile? She is going to be sick inside this freezing damp cell. Please let her go!'

The creature had the decency of looking mildly guilty. 'She's my prisoner,' he answered a little more softly. 'There's nothing you can do. Go away or I'll hold you prisoner as well.' He was turning to leave, but Draco desperately reached out and touched his arm, making the beast stop and snap his arm away sharply.

'Please, I- I... I'll stay in her place! I beg of you, let her go!' he pleaded, stepping forward.

'No, Draco, I won't let you do this!' Narcissa shouted from the other side of the door.

The other two ignored her as the beast seemed to contemplate the suggestion.

'If you stay,' he began.

'Yes, I will stay, I will do anything!'

'DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!' he roared, making Draco back away again. 'If you stay,' he said again, slowly, looking into Draco's eyes as though testing his will to interrupt once more, 'you will have to promise me to stay forever and you will do as I say. If you promise, I will set your mother free and she can go home, but she can't come back!'

Draco did not need to think it over – he knew the answer. 'You have my word.'

'NO! Draco, you can't do this! Please-'

The monster wrenched the dungeon door open, destroying the lock in the process, but not seeming to care. Narcissa, who, along with her son, had screamed in fright, stood shivering inside the cell, her eyes wide and arms around her torso. She rushed forwards and hugged the boy tightly, shaking her head in dismay. She was quickly pulled away from the embrace, however, as the beast grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her outside so fast Draco could not say a thing.

'Mother!' he yelled, running after the creature. When he reached the gates he was panting, desperation flowing through his system, allowing him to run faster than he ever had.

It was too late.

His mother could be seen in the distance, shouting for him, most likely strapped to Philippe, who galloped away into the forest.

Draco felt empty. He fell to his knees on the stone path, his body no longer able to hold him up. His mother had been taken from him and he, forced to stay as an involuntary guest in a rundown castle in the middle of nowhere, prisoner of a monster forever. If he could he would have cried, but the shock was too great for him to react, his body lifeless and numb in the chill of the night. How had this happened to him?

He was disturbed in his desolation by the thing that had caused it.

'I will escort you to your rooms,' said the beast from beside him.

Draco slowly looked up at him. 'Rooms?' I thought-'

'WOULD YOU RATHER STAY IN A DUNGEON?'

'No, of course not, I just-'

'Follow me.' There was such finality to his tone that Draco somehow roused from his numbness and stood up quickly to follow him, his black form barely noticeable in the darkened halls.

'You did not even allow me to say goodbye,' Draco whined. 'And i will never see her again.' He could not help but sniff as his eyes at last began to water, trying hard to keep the tears at bay. He would not cry in front of his capturer, he refused to seem weak.

The other, however, offered no response, leading Draco through what was to be his new home. After walking up numerous flights of stairs, across wide galleries and down winding corridors for what felt like hours, they came to a halt in front of blue double doors, faded white flowers and doves painted on their surface, giving the place a semblance of purity and innocence Draco found ironic.

'These are your chambers,' the other said, not looking at him, 'I hope you will be comfortable here.'

Draco held in a scoff. _Yeah, right..._

'Inside you shall find everything you need. Anything else you can ask from the servants. You may come and go as you please inside de castle grounds, but you are strictly forbidden from going to the west wing-'

'What's in the west wing?' Draco's curiosity was picked.

'It's forbidden. That's all you have to know. AND DO NOT INTERRUPT ME AGAIN!'

'Sorry,' said Draco, miffed.

'You are also to dine with me in an hour,' he said, opening the doors and lightly shoving Draco inside. 'THAT'S AND ORDER!'

With that he turned and left, banging the doors closed while Draco stood in the middle of his room wondering what exactly the universe had against him.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*So! They finally meet. Not a very happy accasion, though. :D<strong>

**As I said before, I am trying to follow the Disney film storyline, so you will find several lines that are the same - word by word - as the film, though I adapted them a bit most of the time.**

**More characters next chapter! Yay!**

**I have some tests and papers to write for university, but in less than two weeks my term will be finished, so expect an update around then.**

**Thank you for the awesome reviews and stay tuned! :3***


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